“There is gossip about her as a witness against Anne,” old Madam replied, “but there is scandal enough now to raise the stones of the palace. ’Twas the rumor of this matter that reached your uncle through his kinsman, the master of horse. Whereat I get a letter, writ in haste, to tell me to propound some excuse to get you to Deptford. William Carew must take me for a liar; that I never was, because I could not cover one without a thousand, and it is a weariness to the flesh.” There was a pause between them; they were approaching Deptford, and Betty’s mind was full of those last melancholy hours with the unhappy queen. “Hast seen thy lover, Henge, of late?” Lady Crabtree asked, as they reached the landing. Betty raised her head haughtily. “I pray you call him by some other name,” she said coldly; “I am happy that I have not seen him.” “And did Master Raby--I beg his pardon--Lord Raby not tell thee of the game in Greenwich Park?” A deep blush came into Betty’s face. “I saw Lord Raby but once before he went away,” she answered, “and he told me but little, albeit I have heard much since.” Taking a grim pleasure in the recital, Lady Crabtree told the story of the ambush and the rescue, and her sharp eyes did not lose a blush or quiver of the face beside her. “’Tis a mercy that the matter is so ended,” Betty said in a low voice; “now I think he will scarcely dare to show his face again.” Old Madam laughed harshly. “Little you know of Barton Henge,” she said; “he will remember the injury and the disgrace until he has avenged it. Lay no such unction to your soul; he is a devil and he will do a devil’s work.” With these threatening words still ringing in her ears, Betty went with a heavy heart to take up her life again with this strange woman. For a while, however, all hearts were absorbed in the terrible tidings that came from London. The indictment and the trial of a Queen of England, the pitiful spectacle of a woman who had sacrificed all to obtain a crown now forced to such a shameful ignominy. The minds of honest Englishmen were stunned; the sadness of the fate of Catherine was as nothing compared with this.